First published 2013
Bridget Jones stares at her calendar in horror. Her girlfriend turns sixty on the exact same day her boyfriend turns thirty. The scheduling conflict captures everything wrong with her life right now. She lies about her age on dating websites and contemplates Botox injections, though she fears death by cosmetic procedure less than dying alone and wrinkled. Her child brings home head lice, sparking debates about whether salon visits make her a bad mother. She refuses to wear reading glasses while inspecting her younger boyfriend's scalp for bugs because vanity trumps vision. Twitter baffles her completely. The more she posts, the fewer followers she gains. She wonders if the Dalai Lama actually writes his own social media content. Modern romance confuses her equally. Does sleeping with someone after two dates and six weeks of texting equal marriage after two meetings in Jane Austen's era? Bridget stumbles through grief and single parenthood while rediscovering her sexual self in middle age. She battles the ridiculous aspects of contemporary existence, from social networks to age differences to parental guilt, searching for love and purpose in a world determined to humiliate her.
390 pages · Hardcover · Knopf